This is a continuation of the story I started in My Pretty Woman Moment. Read that before reading this.
In the days after our group sex encounter with sexy store clerk Tyler, my wife Jess and I were a little dazed. We are not, after all, some wild swinging couple. We're Republicans, damn it, and while we have a definite streak of libertarianism three-ways with strangers in a store dressing room are not, in any way, a routine part of our relationship.
What worried me most was the potential for my wife regretting what amounted to me having sex with another woman right in front of her (though said woman had her face buried in my wife's vagina at the time). I love my wife, and while that sort of a sexual encounter is just about any man's fantasy, I'd not want any part of it if it strained relations with my wife.
But we both seemed to be coming to grips with what had happened, and we seemed to be mutual in our agreement that it was a positive development in our relationship opening up broad new horizons of sensuality for us to explore.
But one thing was bothering me: I had shot my load in Tyler's pussy, and as she left she even commented about keeping my load inside her. What were the implications? Could Jess and I keep it together if I fathered a love child with Tyler? Had Tyler been using any sort of birth control? I hadn't been able to ask.
It was on my mind, and when things are on my mind I can't work. So while I thought the issue through I decided to leave my home office and visit my favorite book store which serves as a sort of sanctum for me. The coffee. The comfy chairs in quiet corners of the big, dusty store. Even the pretentious hipsters, walking about hoping someone will notice the book they're reading and think them intelligent, are part of the charm.
I went into the store, grabbed a book - a copy of Milt Friedman's
Free to Choose
- from a shelf on my way back to my favorite corner where I plopped down in an overstuffed chair and proceeded to pretend to read the book. After a bit I realized that I hadn't gotten myself anything to drink, so I set my book down and went over to the coffee bar and got in line.
On the way I saw a pretty young girl in a stocking cap with black braids sticking out the bottom down to her shoulders. She was wearing a green hooded sweat shirt and jeans, and when she turned I could see that the front of the sweat shirt was pulled tight over a baby bump. The lightly tanned skin of her pregnant tummy peeped out just under the sweatshirt and above the waist of her jeans.
Seeing this radiant and obviously pregnant young woman got me to thinking about my predicament again, and soon I realized the girl was looking at me.
I'd been staring.
I smiled, then turned and placed my order a bit embarrassed. I took my drink back to my corner and let my mind turn to other matters.
An undetermined amount of time later I was jolted from my brooding again by someone clearing their throat.
"Ahem."
Looking up I saw it was the girl in the sweatshirt again. And I'd been staring, lost in thought, at her pregnant belly. Again.
"I'm sorry," I said giving her a sincere look.
"There's no need to stare guy," she shot back peevishly. "I know I look funny."
"Funny?" I got up and took a couple of steps toward her, and in response she took a step back.
"I'm used to guys looking at me because I'm attractive, but I'm not used to being a freak show. I'm sick in the morning, I waddle around and now I've got strange guys treating me like a walking, public sideshow."
"No," I said taking another step forward this one not reciprocated with a step away by her. "I think you're radiant."
"That's movie bullshit," she said tearing up. "That's the bullshit asshole script writers put in retarded romantic comedy movies. Nobody thinks that way."
"I'm serious, you've got me aroused," I said with a vague gesture toward my crotch.
At this she blushed and narrowed her eyes before she turned on her heel and stormed off.
"Way to go, Rob," I muttered to myself. "You just told a strange pregnant woman she was giving you a hard on."
What a douche I am.
I sat down again for a moment, then decided to leave before an angry husband or miffed store clerk came back to find me. The last thing I needed in my marriage now was for my wife to have to bail me out of jail for making lewd comments to a pregnant woman.
I put my book back where I found it, finished my drink and tossed the empty container in a garbage can on my way out to the parking lot. It was snowing lightly and very dark, only illuminated by the light from the store window. The lot had been quite a bit more crowded when I'd arrived, and was emptier now. I had parked toward the back behind some landscaping that partially hid my car from view when looking from the store.
As I walked through the lot, I saw my new "friend" sitting behind the wheel of a minivan with her head down. I could only see her shoulders and the top of her hat above the steering wheel, and while I quickly averted my gaze not wanting to be caught gawking again, I thought I saw her shoulders shuddering.
I felt terrible, but what could I do? She was beautiful, but clearly couldn't see that for herself. I didn't want her to feel ugly. That being said, trying to make amends was only likely to make the matter worse, so I continued on to my car.
As I was walking around the landscaping, I dropped my keys on the ground in front of me and promptly kicked them with my step under my SUV. I uttered a mild profanity, then got down on my stomach to reach the keys. As I was scrabbling for them I heard someone walk up.
"Just a minute," I said.
"No hurry," a girls voice said.
Shit. It looked like I wasn't going to be able to avoid another altercation with the emotional woman. I felt for her. Clearly being with child was making her a bit moody, and my dickish comments hadn't helped.
I stood up and brushed the snow off my pants and jacket then walked around to the back of my SUV where she was standing.
